And The Winner Is?
by austriantatious
Summary: You shuffle the cards over and over again; with each hazardous melange, the cards become more and more transparent. They're now so fragile, you can barely pick them up. They're nearly out of your reach, but it isn't over yet.


**AN:** Diamond no Kuni no Alice OP movie is out on QuinRose's website! I'm literally so happy!

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( _If you turn away…_ )

**/ What is it that you're thinking about? /**

Sorry, honey, but it's more like 'w h o is it you're thinking about'. Fundamentally, you do not feel sorry for addressing the ugly truth. It is what it is. After all, someone has to say it. You mentally note that haven't much to lose, anyway. Stroking the ex-assassin's smooth chin, he pulls you closer to him in an act of despondency; you're losing interest. It's inevitable. By now, his hands are stuck like glue to your hips, crimping his nails into your clothing over and over again, but your gaze is elsewhere. A hot, messy whirlwind of emotions this one turned out to be. In a slightly coveting manner, you raise your small hands and set them again his bare chest while it glistens with sweat, and possibly tears. From whom do the tears come?  
Nobody knows.

( _Surely, they'll follow suit._ )

**/ I yearn to be your one and only dream… /**

It's impossible, you muse, wriggling and writhing into the fresh, dewy grass. Your dreams ended years ago. They're buried with your cold, comatose body up above and six feet under. You have to contemplate—would that make the dream realm Limbo? Unless, of course, there really is no in-between. This world is all black and white, the splendor of color long faded. Were you even present when the pigments existed? Everything's a bit hazy. It's been so long you've lost track, by now. But you cannot think here, for you know he's always listening in on your thoughts. The incubus hovers above you, a keen glint in his solitary eye to keep you entertained. Bluntly, heartlessly, do you retort in the deep recesses of your mind: **You're just a nightmare**.

( _But what happens next?_ )

**/ I'm beginning to think my time with you is up. /**

You're beginning to think his clock is a bit off defected in its intonation. Rather, you're quite sure of it. You've always had time to spare on the clock maker. Back in the delectably simple periods of time in which you'd snag the nearby chair and just watch him work his magic, see it unfolding before your bright, childlike eyes… Did he overlook those times, too? His glasses would slide down the bridge of his nose to keep him connected to reality, as he'd be obliged to lift them up again before he could continue on with his labor; even the spectacles knew how he would become completely engrossed in his work. A speculative look does he give as he waits for your answer. Your mouth can't seem to open. Have those days of armistice and empathy really gone by?

( _What happens when they can't follow you anymore? _)

**/ Do you still see his face? /**

You sincerely hope this is a rhetorical question being posed. In other words, that was ludicrous. Although you have to admit, it's been a while since you could distinguish the two countenance's. Could it be that this man next to you tried to change? The thought never even crossed your seemingly deficient mind. A meaningless effort it would be, as it's not h i s face currently buried in the crook of your bruised neck to harbor the shame of a blossoming love. You suspect he's somewhere in England, wondering where things went wrong that he had to lose both you and Lorina. You're rendezvousing with the mafia boss, now. But it's Autumn. After Autumn comes Winter, and all things glorious die in the cold. There's no room for romance here.  
**All the time**, you croak as he listens closely to the sound of your throat convulsing and tightening. He speaks no more.

( _You continue to console yourself:_ )

**/ That's mean, Alice! Do you enjoy hurting me? /**

Everything has to have a double entendre, doesn't it? There cannot be a single statement anymore without it being seen as ambiguous. You convince the man that his bunny ears are just too cute, and he lends an angelic smile. All toothy, too. Does he kiss in such a manner? You're more than eager to find out for yourself until you remember his proclamation on not being so open with affection, especially when the Hatter is around. He scarfs down the remainder of his cake and offers you a hefty slice. Cautiously, you reject the offer and watch as he brushes the dejection aside, instead trading it in for another carrot dish. Out of all that's happened, this lucky rabbit has changed the least, and for that you're genuinely grateful.

( _They can't leave t h a t easily._ )

**/ We can grow up, but only if you want us to. /**

You'd rather they didn't. Kids should remain kids, for as long as they possibly can; that much, you've learned. You can't reverse the clock and act like it's okay. You cannot go back on time, because if it were possible, you'd have achieved such a thing in a heartbeat. The twins jerk and yank at your gown, starry-eyed and accommodating. Right now they're playing at whatever ounce of decorum and modesty is left in them, just so you'll stay and listen. In the ubiquity of the three other men, they're a lot more tactful than you usually give them credit for. But you're still an intellectual—those tricky smiles can no longer fool you like they used to. You know they'll be dropping by your bedroom sometime in the morning to cuddle up to you and claim what's 'rightfully' theirs. Normally, you'll toss and turn in your bed until you find the means to get up, and then shoo them out of the residence in an attempt to maintain your dignity but, just this once, you'll let them come inside.

( _You've already made your mark._ )

**/ I would do anything to have this sound... /**

You kiss mussed up, rich brown hair and lean back, enjoying the warm feeling of a body laying beautifully across your chest. It's like a perfect picture; all it needs is a frame. You've gotten very, very used to this by now. The knight made a habit of pinning you to the ground of his makeshift tent, eyes a quixotically romantic red, lusting and strange. He was too much of a tease for your liking, but at least he knew how to please a woman. The same couldn't be said for some others. He snuggles into your body, and for a split second, it's almost as though you two are becoming a whole being. He mumbles incoherently into your tummy, not willing to let you go. You smirk and keep calm, so your heartbeat will remain nearly stagnant. He does not like this, and you're well aware of the fact. Truth be told, you prefer torturing him like this. But he's a resilient guy, and so he only re-fastens his hold on your waist.  
He's truly a knight in rusty armor.

( _Unfortunately for you, they've made their own mark, as well._ )

**/ We can only take pleasure in things if you're around. /**

The Queen of Hearts is hardly ever at a loss for words, and often at times you struggle to match her pace. Even in your significant stance, she's one step ahead, and not nearly as tempting. It's apparent that she's the only one in all of Wonderland aware of your plans and actions; women, when confronted by other women, are often as easy to see through as glass. She tells you this, and you've already made up your mind. You're the broken, shattered glass underneath that was swept underneath the rug to hide, and she's the pristine mirror, always truthful in the reflection. Even with her harsh temper, she's quite the gem. She cups your scarlet cheek in her soft hands and tilts your head up to meet her gaze. In such a sympathetic state, she brings you into a hug and you stand, feeling more torn than ever. **We love you** she says in the Majestic Plural; you know she means to speak for the whole of the country, but you can't seem to believe it yourself. How brutal it is to stand on a pedestal, even though you're really standing on nothing at all.

( _The cut they made is abysmal._ )

**/ How awful, Alice—caught cheating on me again! /**

You may be a lot of things, but you never figured a cheater. You gently remind the crazed rabbit that you're not his, in any sense of the word, and he goes up in flames. Again. On the inside, you revel in his troubles, but on the outside you remain indifferent. He latches onto your arm and commands you stop seeing other men. Crossing your fingers on your right hip, smiling, you say you'll try. And he believes you. Doubt attaches itself to his gaze, but he drops the subject as soon as you promise your heart to him, although not literally. He places a rough pair of ghostly pale lips to your hand and moves upwards, leaving butterfly kisses along the way. You stifle a giggle, knowing he'll go even farther if you approve of such actions. This is where you come to hate your indecisiveness, because you really don't mind this heavenly massage, no matter how annoying the giver may be at times. His lips move across your skin, sending delightful shivers throughout your nervous system. The phantom words seem to have a tune to them.

( _The poison pierces the human heart, stopping it permanently.._ )

**/ You can't leave me alone...! Take me with you! /**

It's of no use. The mouse isn't going to give up such a great hiding spot because you're tired, because he's tired, too. You put the blame on him for dragging you around at such an ungodly hour. If neither his insomnia nor Boris would kill him, perhaps you could. But you can't, because he's really just another sweetheart you've used. At the very least, you owe this to him. Patting his hat on his brightly colored head, he blinks back tears. You don't bother trying to lay a move on him, because the last time you tried to pay a small compliment he grasped you by the hem of your dress and lowered his lips onto yours. Without your permission, of course. Not to say it was unpleasant, but it was highly unexpected. After what seems like an eternity of silence encasing the small clearing you've occupied, you turn to see he's fallen asleep on your shoulder. You sigh and await the night to become your savior.

( _Such an unsightly aftermath._ )

**/ You're more interesting than a bunch of lousy fireworks. /**

Then why is he resting? But something about this is interesting in it's own way. The cat has the softest snoring you've ever heard. It's unabashed and devastatingly attractive, because his tail twitches on and off in time with his exhales. You lay beside him, looking up into the stars. They don't hold your attention for much longer as your precious feline friend finally wakes up. Mischievously, he acts to sleep again, only his hand snakes around your side and gropes. Scolding him for being so lewd out in public, you roll the other direction. Like a loyal pet, he goes after you and breaks out into that Cheshire cat grin. He suggests you're really dirtier than you act, but you vehemently deny it. He really should learn to keep quiet, you think as he moves in and laps at your exposed shoulder. **Just stay with me tonight.** He sounds pleading, and sincere, and you surmise. Apprehensively, you turn on your side and don't reply. It's not good to show your feelings.

(_ Like a frightened child, you amble frantically, heading to nowhere just to check for damage._ )

**/ Your voice is the most magnificent instrument there is. Just yours, Alice. /**

The Marquis is boisterous, veers off topic, and can't play an instrument to save his clock, but he's one of a kind. Or so you tell him. Every time you mention his ingenuity and idiosyncrasies, he seems to glow in exuberance. It's a nice change of pace, but you still cannot stand his singing. Plenty a time have you tried to get him to take lessons, but each time he politely refuses and comes up with an excuse as to why he could never make to the coaching on time. Subsequently, each time he does so you call him out on his lies, and he gets all clammy. Much like a game of House, where you're the stereotypical naggy mother and he's the easygoing father, you two come up with petty reasons to jump into a well un-thought out affray. But in the end, he'll take you by the hand and give a cheesy speech as to why he adores you so much. And each time it happens, you shake your head and tell him to act like a normal human being.

(_ But there is none. You went in circles. Didn't you figure it out?_ )

**/ Are you making a habit of getting lost? /**

Even after all this time, it's painfully clear you don't know your way around. No matter how much you assimilate into Wonderland, you'll never grasp the landscape. Thankfully, or lamentably, there's the Jokers ready to give you a nice sho-ve. Black more literally than White. Somehow, after all the horrors the duo put you through, things have changed. Once you gained the upper hand in the country, they seemed to have some sort of new reverence for your authority and judgement. They still played horrible pranks on you like the recidivous men they were, but some things were most definitely different. You smile smugly while the two argue about the nicknames you gave them forever ago. Suddenly they address you and you yawn, feigning no interest whatsoever in what they had to say. A dark glimmer crosses over White's ruby eye and you laugh sardonically, looking away. Black tosses an irrelevant insult to you and you just nod, humming. You really fancy this little game the three of you play.

( _In the end, y o u' r e the loser._ )

**\ You've broken the rules. \**

You shuffle the cards over and over again; with each hazardous melange, the cards become more and more transparent. They're now so fragile, you can barely pick them up. They're nearly out of your reach, but it isn't over yet. You're not going to give up everything you've worked so hard for—the sacrifices you made to get to this crucial juncture. You defy. With your swift stand, the table you're working on flips over and disintegrates into the ground, scattering the cards into the stuffy air around you while you scream in frustration. Nobody hears you but yourself. This is what it's come to. It isn't the end, but rather it's a new point in the ongoing story. A new beginning of sorts. To start all over...

**This isn't fun.**

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**AN:** In the end, I'm much more fond of the other one-shot. If you didn't figure it out already, this is a follow-up to A Different Kind of Sport, as it was requested. This is supposed to be a little more abstract, only surfacing the relationship Alice has with the role holders (not including those in DnKnA). I know it's not very... clear, but I wanted it to be a little vague. Questions, comments, concerns? Hit me up.  
P.S. If this updates randomly, it's just me editing out mistakes.


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